I was on the phone with R and wanted to give him some treats I’d just baked to share with his Sunday night game friends but he said it was cancelled this Sunday. I yelled, “You’ve ruined Christmas!” We laughed and then he said, “And I ruined your life?” which was a sarcastic jab at his (first) ex-wife who told him that on more than one occasion.
He knew I was only being playful when I cried that he’d ruined Christmas. And I’m pretty sure he was only joking when he replied that he’d ruined my life. But I thought about it alot and realized if he thought that even one tiny little bit, he would be dead wrong. The reason I said “Don’t say that,” wasn’t because I didn’t think he should say it. It’s because it isn’t true.
My life isn’t ruined.
Our 10-year marriage may be over, but that is just as much my fault as it is his. We each had our own ways of being absent from that marriage. And I’m the one that gave the orders to pull the plug! (Geez, he’d still be visiting that brain-dead thing). I take a full 50% of the fault. No more, but certainly no less.
But okay, so, I’ll try this new thing of having contact with him (after a period of no contact) and I’ll see how it goes. But the whole point is to say that my life isn’t ruined. I have plans to LOVE my life. And the crazy, bizarro thing is: I can see glimpses of that. I can actually see moments of “Ah, I love my life.”
I still get lonely and regretful, but (honestly?) I wouldn’t want a life completely free of sadness. I’m too poetic for that.
The exciting thing is, I wouldn’t want a life free of joy, either, and I just may be able to pull this life thing off. One that is meant for me. One that is not ruined. One that I love.